The World Fell Down
by Cassodembreankia
Summary: A one-shot tribute to David Bowie in mourning of his recent passing in which Sarah returns to the Labyrinth one last time. We'll miss you Goblin King. (Warning: feels MAY be included.)


**Author's Note: A small tribute to the Goblin King himself, David Bowie, in honor of his recent passing. Inspired by my own love of the strangeness and fun of Labyrinth, even if now it's "such a sad love - deep in my eyes..." Rest in peace, Goblin King. We'll miss you.**

* * *

It had been thirty years since Sarah's run in the Labyrinth— _Almost exactly,_ she thought to herself on an early morning in January of 2016 as she found herself back in the Underground. There was fondness, fear, and regret coloring her memories of when she was fifteen and accidentally wished her half-brother Toby away to the goblins.

Sarah thought that the Goblin King would outlive her by several centuries. He was Fae—and the Fae were supposed to be mischievous, powerful, and most of all, immortal. But…

The Goblin King—Jareth himself—was lying on a grand mahogany bed, obviously ill. He looked the same as he had thirty years ago—strange blond hair, some of it long, some of it short in an orb around his head; mismatched eyes, one blue, one brown; pointed canine teeth that made a terrifying sneer when he was angry; sharp, knife-like face; and of course the eccentric clothing. Though his attire was remarkably subdued due to his weakened state.

"Long time," she remarked, a sad sort of smirk toying on the edges of her lips.

He gave her a sad grin in return. "The blink of an eye," he countered, voice raspy but fighting to stay strong.

Sarah rushed to his bedside and knelt next to him. He gave a cough from somewhere deep in his lungs that sounded _wrenching_ and painful. Her hands hovered over him, unsure of what to do but yearning to help. "It's too late for that, Sarah," he commented, trying to keep his voice as strong as possible. Another cough.

"Tell me what I can do," she pleaded.

"Nothing. There is no way to save me from this." He coughed again, longer and harder. Sarah watched, desperate. When he stopped, his eyes turned back to her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He shook his head. "I always watched over them, you know," he murmured.

A forlorn grin tilted up the corners of the woman's lips. She didn't have to ask who "they" were. She knew exactly who he was talking about. "I know," she remarked. "They aren't very good at keeping secrets." Her twenty-year-old son David and her seventeen-year-old daughter Jennifer used to come home from playing in the park together all through their childhood telling tales of a strange man with yellow hair saving them from shenanigans—like the time Jen slipped on a stepping stone across the creek and a black glove caught her and steadied her—or the time David had boredly tried to wish his little sister away to the goblins and the man gave him a small crystal to show him what would happen if he followed through, making him change his mind.

That got a weak chuckle out of the Goblin King. "You keep that spark of magic alive in your Jen, you hear? She's every bit as magical as you are and twice as optimistic. And your David. He's got a lot of his father in him, but he's got more of you. Make sure they always have that sense of magic."

A single tear slipped down her face from her left eye as she nodded. "I will," she promised.

Jareth lifted his hand and wiped the tear from her cheek. "Don't cry, Sarah-mine," he murmured. "Just promise me one thing."

"Whatever I can," she replied.

"Keep the _magic_ alive. The Power is within you."

She nodded again. "Of course I will."

He smirked, that impish, dangerous smirk. "Good. The world isn't falling down yet, Sarah-mine. And tell Toby that I'm proud of him."

Toby was the twenty-nine-year-old father of a four-year-old son—whom he'd named Jareth for reasons he'd never quite known. Sarah smiled. "I will," she promised. Jareth grinned, closing his eyes tiredly, and rested his hand on the side of her face, peeking his eyelids open to look at her. There was something akin to longing in his expression. He blinked a few times, breathing labored, and pulled a slightly wider grin.

"I always loved you," he commented, voice raspy. Another tear slipped from Sarah's eye and he wiped it away with his thumb.

"I loved you too. I was just too young."

"Yes, I know. And then you moved on. Told everyone that it was the crazy fantasy of a child. Met your Paul." A fit of coughing wracked his body. "But you never forgot your adventure. Never stopped believing in magic. And _that_ , Sarah, was the most important thing I could have ever taught you. That was how you showed your love."

"Don't go!" she breathed.

"Your wishes won't save me, love, as much as you may hope. It's no matter, though. My time ruling the Underground is over. But the Labyrinth will find a new ruler. It may be you. It may be David. It may be your Jen. I, personally, am rooting for her. It's about time this dusty old place chose a queen."

His attempt at humor made Sarah grin sadly, eyes still welled up with tears. "Don't go," she repeated, forehead crinkling as she blinked tears down her face. She wiped them off herself and rested her forehead on Jareth's chest and sobbed. She could feel his wheezing breaths as his fingers weakly toyed with her dark—but graying—hair. He was the strange hero-but-villain of her childhood. The story she adored above all the others.

"I must, Sarah-mine. But do not fret. Perhaps, one day, our paths will cross again, as they did so long ago."

"The blink of an eye," she quoted. Another weak chuckle escaped the Goblin King's throat—followed closely by a heart-wrenching cough dredged up from the depths of his lungs.

She looked up from his white cotton pirate-style shirt, tear tracks staining her time-worn face. Apart from the pale sheen to his skin, and the gaunt, hollow look to his cheekbones, he looked the same as the first time she saw him when she was a fifteen-year-old drama queen. So much had changed, but so much hadn't.

She wasn't sure which one was worse. They both hurt.

Jareth wiped her tears again, this time with his sleeve. "Do not cry, Sarah-mine." He smiled. " _There's such a sad love… deep in your eyes—a kind of pale jewel… opened and closed within your eyes…"_

 _"I'll place the sky… within your eyes…"_ Sarah joined in, remembering the words from the bubble ballroom from so many years ago.

 _"As the pain sweeps through—makes no sense for you—every thrill is gone… wasn't too much fun at all… but I'll be there for you-ou-ou… as the world falls down!"_ they sang together, both of them with raspy voices—his from illness, hers from tears.

"Do not weep for me, my dear. You will always be the babe with the Power. My world may be falling, but your world has not fallen down yet. And I will be there for you until it does," he whispered. He took her hand and squeezed it. She looked him right in the eyes—their different colors both glimmering with the mirth and mischief and wicked humor they had always shone with. He gave her a genuine smile.

His face and hand went slack as a he heaved a final breath and sighed into peaceful sleep, never to wake again.


End file.
